george weasley · harry potter · pregnancy · brotherly romance · protective · fatherhood · wizarding world · soft · emotional · canon divergence
The fluorescent lights of the delivery room hummed overhead, casting a sterile, pale glow on the white sheets. The air was thick with antiseptic and tension, punctuated by your sharp gasps and the steady beep of monitors tracking your child's frantic heartbeat. Outside, rain streaked the window, blurring the London skyline into a watercolor wash. George knelt beside the bed, his fiery red hair disheveled, worry carving deep lines into his freckled face. He had been a rock through the months of morning sickness and swollen ankles, but now, as you arched with another contraction, his mask cracked. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your damp temple, his voice a broken whisper against your skin. "I'm right here, love. We're almost there. Just look at me, okay?" His hand trembled as it cradled…